


breathe through me (fill up your lungs with us)

by spaceburgers



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Ballet, Blow Jobs, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, i tagged the wrong yuri at first leave me alone to die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 17:34:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8336656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceburgers/pseuds/spaceburgers
Summary: “Your eros,” Viktor says. “I found it at last.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> title from lungs by chvrches
> 
> listen. i just. really love ballet ok. send help
> 
> not beta'd at all please forgive me for any mistakes

“I was told I’d find you here.”

Yuri looks up at the sound of Viktor’s voice and sees him reflected in the full-length mirrors that plaster the side of the dance studio. He doesn't trip over his own feet, not this time, but it’s a close call. He catches himself in time, hands flying out to steady himself on the barres in front of him. When he looks up again the flush on his face is unmistakable, and Viktor is still in the same place, leaning casually against the doorway, shoulder hitched and arms crossed. God, even the way he stands is beautiful, elegant and cool, deliberate yet casual. And Yuri’s staring again, oh god, he’s staring again—he averts his eyes, looks down at where his hands are gripping the barres so tightly his knuckles are turning white. Yuri exhales, forces himself to relax.

_Cool. Be cool._

He raises his eyes again, and Viktor is _standing right behind him_.

Yuri doesn’t whimper. But it’s a close call. Far too close for comfort.

“Are you trained in ballet, Yuri?”

“Ah – no. Not really. Just a little bit.”

“Minako told me you’ve been training together for a long time now.”

“It’s not really training,” Yuri says. He looks down, looks up again. Their eyes meet in the mirror in front of them. Yuri’s hands clench and unclench around the barres, almost reflexively. “She just helps me practice, that’s all.”

Viktor hums noncommittally. He takes a step forward, rests a hand on the barre next to Yuri’s, and Yuri feels his entire body stiffen up. Viktor is close now, way too close, and this isn’t—this can’t be—

“You should show me,” Viktor murmurs. His mouth hovers barely an inch away from Yuri’s ear. He’s _close_ , when did he get this close—

“I’m not,” Yuri stammers. “I’m not all that good—”

“Minako assured me otherwise.” Viktor’s smile is reflected in the mirror in front of them. So is the color that’s rapidly spreading across Yuri’s face. It’s so incredibly embarrassing, but Yuri just can’t seem to tear his eyes away. “Why don’t you prove it to me too?”

“I,” Yuri says. He can feel Viktor’s breath, hot against his own neck, and it’s too much, it’s way too much. He steps away, moves to the right to put space between the both of them. His breath is shallow, like he’s just run a mile, but he hasn’t done anything, was barely halfway through his stretches when Viktor came in. The _effect_ that Viktor has on him is so visceral. As much as he tries to contain it he just can’t seem to get his body to listen.

“Or better yet,” Viktor says. He stays where he is, doesn’t try to step into Yuri’s space again. Even so, Yuri’s heart is still beating out of control in his chest. God, he’s such a mess. “You can dance with me.”

Yuri turns to Viktor, blinking. Viktor has a hand outstretched. He’s smiling, bright and tender and beautiful.

There is no way Yuri could ever say no.

Yuri takes Viktor’s hand.

“Do you know—how do you say it in Japanese?” He says something in Russian, then shakes his head, laughing to himself. “ _The Lake of Swans?_ No, that can’t be it…”

“Swan Lake?” Yuri ventures. Viktor lights up like Yuri’s just told him all the secrets to the universe.

“Yes, yes, that! The white swan _pas de deux_ , do you know…”

“I know of it,” Yuri says. And he’s smiling now, too, even in spite himself. Viktor’s joy is infectious. Their hands are still joined; Yuri’s skin tingles from where it comes into contact with Viktor’s. “Minako-sensei played the principal in a production of Swan Lake, a few years ago.”

“Let me teach you,” Viktor says.

“What?”

“I’ll teach you how to do it,” Viktor says, smiling even broader now. Yuri laughs.

“That’s crazy, you can’t teach an entire dance in—”

“Don’t give up without even trying, Yuri!” Viktor chides. He squeezes Yuri’s hand, grinning. “Come, come, here, grab my shoulder, then do an arabesque—oh, that’s good, you’re a natural at this, Yuri—”

And so Yuri goes. Hesitantly, at first, almost as if he’s afraid to even touch Yuri, as if the very act in itself is sacrilegious in some way. But Viktor showers him with praise, and his touch is so impossibly gentle, and his voice is as smooth as honey and as clear as the brightest blue sky, and it’s too much all over again.

Viktor’s hands are still on his hips when he stops mid-pirouette.

“It’s late,” Yuri says. “We should head back—”

Viktor spins him around and kisses him.

Yuri thinks he stops breathing entirely.

For a moment he doesn’t dare to move, doesn’t even dare to blink. His eyes are wide open. Viktor’s lips are on his, his breath against Yuri’s mouth. His hands are still on Yuri’s hips, holding him in place, anchoring him down. Yuri is suddenly acutely aware of the single layer of clothing that separates Viktor’s skin from his own. He shivers.

“You’re trembling,” Viktor says.

Yuri doesn’t answer. He doesn’t think he can even speak.

“Yuri?”

Yuri’s throat is dry. He swallows.

“Viktor,” he says. His voice cracks. He tries again. “Please,” he says. “Again.”

“No,” Viktor says. Yuri flushes; but then Viktor lifts one of his hands, traces the curve of Yuri’s lip with his thumb. “ _You_ kiss me,” he says, and smiles.

Yuri’s heart is a hummingbird caught in his chest.

He leans in, and Viktor meets him halfway, one hand braced against his waist, the other pressed against his cheek, thumb stroking Yuri’s skin idly. Surely he can tell how hot Yuri’s face is right now; surely he can hear how fast his heart is beating.

But he’s still here. He’s standing in front of Yuki in an empty dance studio, and he’s kissing Yuri, and he’s not moving away. He’s right here. He’s real. He’s so, so real, and Yuri can barely believe it.

When Viktor finally pulls away his eyes are clear and bright. His smile is enough to light up the whole room. His hand is still on Yuri’s face.

“You,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper, “are mesmerizing.”

“I’m not—” Yuri begins, but then Viktor lowers his head and presses his lips against Yuri’s neck, and this time Yuri does actually whimper.

“ _Viktor_ ,” Yuri gasps.

“You’re sensitive, aren’t you?” Viktor says, and then kisses Yuri’s neck again.

If Yuri thought his face was hot before it’s nothing compared to how it feels now. His cheeks feel like they’re on fire. He wants to disappear. He doesn’t want this to end.

“Viktor, we can’t,” he tries to say. “This is—Minako will—”

“Then we’ll just have to be quiet, hmm?” Viktor says, and presses his lips to Yuri’s jaw.

Yuri gasps, his hands flying up to grab at Viktor’s shoulders as if on their own volition. Viktor is trailing kisses down Yuri’s neck again, muttering indecipherable words that Yuri can’t make out (is that Russian? Honestly, Viktor could be speaking perfect Japanese right now and Yuri probably wouldn’t even know). His hand is on Yuri’s shirt, tugging at the hem, and Yuri thinks he can sense the exact moment when his self-control cracks.

 _Sorry, Minako-sensei_ , he thinks, and then pushes Viktor against the mirrored wall.

Viktor’s eyes are wide. The barre digs against Viktor’s back, but he doesn’t give any indication of it. And then just as quickly as his expression changes, it shifts again, his eyes narrowing almost dangerously. He’s smiling again, but it’s different from his previous smiles from before. It’s… the only word Yuri can use to describe it is _predatory_.

“Your _eros_ ,” Viktor says. “I found it at last.”

And then Viktor’s grabbing his waist again, and in one fluid motion he spins Yuri around so that he’s the one with his back against the wall.

Viktor sinks to his knees. Yuri’s eyes go very, very wide.

“Viktor?”

“Is this okay?”

Viktor looks up at Yuri. Yuri thinks these are what’s known as puppy dog eyes, but it feels kind of wrong to call it that when Viktor’s on his knees like that, with his hands hovering inches away from Yuri’s belt loops, and oh, _shit_ —

“Yes,” Yuri says. His voice cracks again. He tilts his head back, the back of his head coming into contact with the mirror behind him with a loud thunk. He screws his eyes shut and says, louder this time, “ _Please_.”

Yuri doesn’t watch. He _can’t_ watch. But he can feel it anyway, when Viktor’s steady hands undo his pants, when Viktor’s careful hands tug them down. Yuri feels exposed, vulnerable, trapped. Viktor’s hands are on his bare skin now, and Yuri thinks he must be shaking. Viktor’s hands are on his skin, and they are so painfully gentle that Yuri thinks he might cry.

“Yuri,” he says, his voice soft. “Yuri. Look at me.”

Slowly, Yuri opens his eyes and looks down.

Viktor’s eyes are glazed over; he’s flushed too, breathing hard. His lips are red, and somehow, _somehow_ , he’s still smiling.

“Look,” Viktor says. “Look what you've done to me.”

Yuri inhales sharply, his breath catching in his throat.

Carefully, he raises one hand, cards it through Viktor’s hair. It’s smooth to the touch, runs through his fingers like water.

 _I can do this_ , Yuri thinks. _I’m allowed to do this._

“Yuri?” Viktor asks.

Yuri smiles.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m okay.”

And so Viktor lowers his head, starts by trailing his lips along Yuri’s inner thighs. His hands remain on Yuri’s hips, and they’re the only thing that’s preventing Yuri's legs from giving out from underneath him. He can feel Viktor’s breath against his skin, the heat of it; that same heat pools in his gut, and god, he’s so hard right now, and Viktor is— _Viktor is_ —

Yuri slams his hand over his mouth, but even that isn’t enough to muffle the embarrassingly loud moan that escapes unbidden from his lips.

“Vik— _ah_ —”

Because Viktor is—shit, Viktor has his mouth on him, and it really shouldn’t be a surprise, it’s not like he didn’t know it was coming, but the feeling of it hits him all at once, the rush of it almost overwhelming. His knees shake; his hand in Viktor’s hair tightens its grip. Viktor’s eyes are closed. He looks almost blissful. Yuri thinks he could die right now.

“ _Viktor_ ,” Yuri moans, and then Viktor slides all the way home, and Yuri comes without warning, the force of it hitting him squarely in the gut. He moans, loud and uncontrolled, and when Viktor pulls away he sinks to the floor, his legs finally giving out on him.

Yuri gasps, his breathing deep and uneven. His head is spinning—his vision is hazy. But then there are strong arms enveloping him, and Viktor is kissing him again, kissing his forehead and nose and cheeks and mouth, and it takes a moment for Yuri to register the fact that Viktor is _laughing_ , bright and beautiful and happy.

“Yuri,” Viktor says between kisses. “ _Yuri,_ god, you’re so—”

Yuri grabs his face and kisses him, deeply, not holding back any longer. He can taste himself on Viktor’s tongue, and it’s both extremely strange and extremely hot at the same time, and Viktor lets himself get pushed down so his back hits the floor with Yuri on top of him. He takes one of Yuri’s hands, places it over his own pants, and oh, Viktor’s hard too, this is—

“Will you help take care of me too?” Viktor asks, smiling.

“Yes,” Yuri says. “Yes, yes, of course.” He’s babbling, he knows he is, but he can’t quite control himself any longer, not when Viktor lies back and lets Yuri undo his pants with trembling hands, not when they join hands to stroke Viktor to completion.

"Yuri," Viktor gasps again. "Yuri,  _Yuri_ , god, you're so beautiful, I—"

"Viktor," Yuri says, nonsensically. "Viktor."

"Yes," Viktor sighs, tilts his head back, and then finally comes all over their joined hands.

After, the both of them lie there, Yuri half on top of Viktor. His hand is sticky with Viktor’s come. It’s on Viktor’s shirt, on Viktor’s hand too, and oh god, _did that actually happen, is this real life or is he going to wake up from this bizarre dream any moment from now—_

“Stop thinking,” Viktor says. He cards his clean hand through Yuri’s hair, gentle and careful. “It’s loud.”

“Oh, s-sorry—”

“Don’t apologize either.” Viktor smiles at Yuri, and there’s something different about his smile now. It’s not the one he slaps on in front of cameras or interviewers or fans; it’s not the one he puts on when he’s on the rink. This one is special, somehow.

Yuri’s heart clenches in his chest. All of a sudden he’s finding it hard to breathe all over again.

“We should head back soon,” Yuri says.

“Okay,” Viktor says, and closes his eyes. He doesn't make any attempt to move.

Yuri doesn’t either.

“I’ll teach you the rest of the dance some other time,” Viktor mumbles.

“Okay,” Yuri says.

Viktor smiles, and Yuri does too.


End file.
